I Wish
by Kjb2609
Summary: "I wish you would write a fic where..." prompts. Mostly Captain Swan with a smattering of my favourite brOTPs. Ratings will vary, but mostly K
1. The Things You Hear

_THE PROMPT: I wish you would write a fic where Emma and Hook overhear Snow and Charming talking about their relationship_

She had to get her own place.

But until such a time, Emma was thankful her pirate was a master of stealth as she had no intention of sending him home alone. The loft was quiet, only the sound of David's snores breaking the silence. She put a finger to Killian's lips as she saw the twinkle in his eyes - tormenting her father about his nocturnal habits was NOT what she had in mind at that very moment.

Not at all.

And apparently, as Killian took the hand that touched his mouth and used it to pull her close, neither did he. Navigating the stairs silently with a gorgeous pirate pressing desperate kisses to her neck and shoulders was quite the challenge, and Emma looked back towards her parents' room anxiously.

But with no sign of movement and the continued steady rhythm from David, she let herself relax, falling onto her bed and into Killian's waiting arms, lips, hands and finally bodies all melding into one...

Emma awoke to the warmth of Killian's body pressed against her and the quiet murmur of voices from downstairs. Even in her drowsy state, she sensed he was awake, alert even, hundreds of years of early rising deeply ingrained. Shifting slightly to face him, she smiled up at him, still amazed by how easy this was, waking with him, loving him.

"Morning, Captain," she sighed but he pressed a finger to her lip and a soft kiss to her cheek. Confused, she stared questioningly at him and he whispered in her ear.

"It appears we are the topic of conversation this morning, love." Straining her ears, she tuned into the muted voices drifting up from the kitchen.

"... _they are true love now._.."

"... _make an honest._.."

"... _wonderful to see Emma so happy_ …" At this snippet from her mother, Emma pulled Killian's arm around her waist, threading her fingers through his as they listened. After a few moments, a thought dawned and with a subtle flick of her wrist, the voices from the kitchen were suddenly clear.

"You're brilliant, Swan, amazing," came the breathy voice in her ear and she shrugged, settling back into him, enjoying his closeness as her parents continued to speak.

"I never thought I'd say it, but Hook - _Killian_ \- is one hell of a guy." The pirate chuckled softly and Emma squeezed his hand to shush him. She had no idea if her spell would amplify their sound as well but Killian was undeterred.

"I told him before we were getting along," he whispered and Emma turned in his arms to quieten him in the only other way she could think of. As her lips met his, her mother's amused voice echoed around them.

"I don't know why you never thought you'd say it. The awesomeness of Killian Jones is one of your favourite topics of conversation."

There was no way the prince and princess didn't hear the snort of laughter from their daughter _and_ her awesome pirate at this statement. There was a decided pause in the conversation before David spoke.

"He's here, isn't he?"

"Seems that way," Mary Margaret replied.

"In our daughter's bed?" David's voice was resigned. Emma was sure she didn't imagine Killian's hand sliding down towards her ass as he raised a very suggestive eyebrow at her.

"I would imagine so, honey. Emma is a grown woman."

"Indeed you are, Swan," the pirate breathed in her ear, earning him a sharp slap on the arm for his trouble.

"Ick," she grinned, "My _parents_ are listening!" He grinned back and ran a gentle finger down her cheek and then along the line of her body. She shuddered involuntarily, the spark of desire undeniable despite the situation.

"I need to…" she started.

"...get your own place," he finished with her, rolling away to rise from the bed. "Well, Swan, no point dallying. We should greet your parents." He pulled on his jeans and walked towards the edge of the mezzanine, but Emma hissed at him.

"At least put a shirt on before you say good morning. Do you want to kill David?"

The words had hardly left her mouth before she regretted them. His smirk was ridiculous as he looked at her, his voice full of humour. "I believe it would be my turn, love."

Emma sighed heavily, flicking her wrist to return the acoustics to their normal range. She had a feeling she wouldn't need amplification to hear David's response...


	2. Crushing It

_A/N: I am finding myself writing a lot about some of the peripheral characters (it's not like I_ _play Granny on a roleplay blog_ _or anything) and poor old Happy seems to cop the bad guy role a lot. I don't know why, because frankly Michael Coleman is my absolute favourite person on Twitter and you should follow him if you don't already._

 _THE PROMPT: I wish you would write a fic where Killian annoys the entire town with his newfound addiction to Facebook games. (from xhookswenchx)_

 **Crushing It**

There were days when Emma wished heartily that she had gone with her first instinct and sourced an old Nokia brick when she decided to get Killian a phone. Phone calls, text and a game of Snake would have been more than sufficient for a three hundred year old pirate who wouldn't have known what he was missing.

But no, she had to go the smartphone route, had even encouraged him to spend time with Henry learning what it could do. Well, she was paying for it now.

As was the rest of the town unfortunate enough to be on Killian's contact list.

It had started innocently enough - he had been resistant in fact, looking scornfully at Happy's Instagram full of carefully filtered shots of lunch at Granny's and Belle's book review blog.

"What interest do I have in the dwarf's eating habits, Swan? Can I not order whatever wish at the diner any time?" Emma couldn't argue with that one, she conceded. "And, would I not go and speak to the Lady Belle herself if seeking new reading material?"

No wonder it had snuck up on them all.

Slowly but surely, however, the technology began to draw him in. Emma found him grinning madly over his phone when she met him for lunch one day, eager to share the latest Storybrooke gossip.

"Look Swan, the Widow Lucas says that we are the most attractive couple in town. I've always said she was a woman of discerning taste."

Curious, Emma took the phone from him. The blog he was reading was proudly titled "Gossip Granny" - apparently running the diner was not taking all of Granny's time these days. She made a mental note to check on where else she may have been mentioned on that particular site and switched off his phone.

"I thought you were anti-blogs?" she asked as he placed his phone beside him on the table. Not in his pocket where it would have previously lived, she noticed.

"Ah, there's no harm, love. Actually, I have learned quite a lot of fascinating facts from this particular source material. Did you know…"

Emma had never been so grateful to see the waitress with her lunch.

Only days later, the friend request arrived on her Facebook feed. Who set him up a damn Facebook account, she wondered, determined to have words of the strictest kind with the offender. She scrolled through his profile, already featuring a collection of very attractive selfies - she may have saved one or two to her own camera roll - and a growing friends list.

He'd have more friends than her in days.

His status updates were funny and charming and _regular_. She was never in any doubt as to where he was, what he was doing or how he felt about her. Mostly she read or liked them, laughing at the interactions between him and David - inevitably ending with David's "I WAS CURSED!" with multiple exclamation points as befitted the situation - and cherishing the bond she saw between him and Henry.

She _was_ compelled to comment when his grilled cheese sandwich appeared, most definitely filtered to its best advantage.

It all seemed to have been a very positive transition for him - he'd found his technological niche, so to speak and all was well. Until the day it wasn't.

He had barely registered her presence when she came home from work. It was dark outside, but there was no light in the apartment, save the small rectangle illuminating his face as he swiped aggressively at the screen.

"Bloody hell, not another bomb! Where is that cursed striped one?"

Emma sighed heavily. She knew those words. It was the beginning of the end. He had found Candy Crush.

"Killian?" she started, switching on the lights, making him blink in surprise although his eyes did not leave the screen.

"Hello, Swan - _take that you bastard_ \- I'll be with you in a second. I'll be out of lives in a moment."

But he was never out of lives - not really. At first, the waiting was frustrating - there was always a level he had _just_ had to finish or a booster he _just_ had to use - but his lives would be up and life would return to normal, at least until they reset.

She shook her head in despair when the unexpected notification ding had her pulling her phone from her pocket midway through her lunch and opening her Facebook.

 _Killian Jones sent you a request in Candy Crush._

The second and the third request followed in close succession. Who the _HELL_ had told him he could request new lives on Facebook?

She deleted the requests.

It was soon replaced with 10 more. And when David returned to the station, his phone seemed more active than normal also.

"Killian?" she asked her father, as he checked his phone.

"Yeah. He obviously worked out the Facebook request thing he asked me about." Emma looked at him in dismay.

"You taught him that? Have you met him?"

David was confused. "What? Everyone plays Candy Crush, Emma. Why wouldn't Killian?"

She sighed. For such good mates, apparently her father didn't understand Killian at all.

"Do you mean Killian _Jones_? The goal-oriented, competitive pirate who loves a challenge?" she asked. "Doesn't give up on things? That guy?" She watched as the realisation dawned on David's face.

"I'll turn off my notifications."

It was the same all over town - Killian's long list of friends began to dwindle as he bombarded their inboxes with request after request. Even the most hardcore of players - several of the dwarves were self confessed addicts - soon started to back away when they saw him coming.

It would be comical if it was happening to someone else.

His obsession was so complete that he didn't allow small matters like annoying dwarves to stop him. She had awoken several times now to an empty bed, finding him curled up in the window seat staring intently at the small screen, swiping and cursing.

An intervention was required.

The irony of a solution being found on Facebook wasn't lost on her. But as she scrolled her own timeline absently one evening, waiting for Killian to finish one more level, she had a flash of inspiration.

It was perfect. An outlet for his vast vocabulary, a chance to interact with people beyond the confines of Storybrooke and, best of all, the requirement to wait for an opponent to play.

Killian Jones, she thought, meet Words with Friends.


	3. Who's the Lightweight?

**THE PROMPT: I wish you would write a fic where Granny and Killian drink Dave under the table.**

Normality had settled over Storybrooke - or as normal as a town filled with magic and fairy tale folk could hope for. Leroy had his moments of glory of course, the odd monster or spell gone awry still required an announcement, but as a rule, life was quiet.

Much to the delight of the local shopkeepers. The risk of certain death was very bad for business.

As was the blasted karaoke night at The Rabbit Hole, Granny thought, angrily swiping at the already clean counters with a cloth. Not even the regulars had come in tonight; there was lasagne piled up in her freezer as evidence of that. Peering out the door of the diner and into the street, there was no sign of human life, just a faint thump of bass and muffled voices from the bar carried on the night air.

Resigned to the fact that service was well and truly done, she let the door close behind her with a jingle of bells. The lasagne might not be required but there was no point in letting the good bottle of whiskey go to waste. Taking down the top shelf liquor and a glass, she sat at the counter and poured herself a generous shot. The aroma of the amber liquid was warm and soothing and she thanked her wolf senses thoroughly for the added enjoyment. Another deep sniff was equally as enjoyable, but with an added dimension that was very familiar.

The Captain was nearby.

Granny could think of worse people to share the bottle with. Hell, she might not even charge him.

On cue, the pirate appeared through the back door of the diner, a wide smile on his face and the prince by his side. Of course. The two were virtually inseparable these days, though she was mildly surprised not to find David at the Rabbit Hole. She had seen him belt out a few Top 40 hits in his time, the cheesier the better.

"Not regaling the town with your vocal stylings tonight, then?" she asked, voice laden with sarcasm.

"There was only so much of Leroy belting out _I Will Survive_ that one man could handle." David shook his head at the memory.

"Not to mention the fact that Dave's better half was putting on the pressure for a romantic duet," Killian added with a wicked raise of his eyebrows.

 _Was it hot in here?_

"There was no way I was getting up there and singing _Don't Go Breaking My Heart._ " The Prince was adamant as they slid into a booth and picked up a menu. She could not imagine why. The damn thing hadn't changed in thirty years.

"Kitchen's closed," she said, taking a swig of her whiskey. "Didn't seem worth my while."

"Perhaps you'd join us for a dram, milady?" the Captain asked, his hand darting inside his jacket to retrieve his flask. The hand was deftly removed as the look of disdain on her face registered with him.

"Put that away," she ordered as she reached across the bar for two more glasses and then joined the men in the booth, sliding in next to the pirate. Obviously. She poured slightly less generous shots for them both and then held up her glass in salute, clinking it together with theirs before tipping her head back and swallowing the whisky in one fell swoop. The men exchanged amused glances as she slammed the glass down on the table.

"Well?" Granny looked expectantly at them in turn. "Going to let an old wolf show you up, are we?" Not to be outdone, Killian threw back the drink, blanching slightly at the unfamiliar taste and placed his glass down next to Granny's. David toyed with the drink, swirling the alcohol round the glass before taking a measured sip.

"Smooth," he said, smiling obliviously at them both. Granny snorted derisively and Killian just shook his head. "What?" David protested. "When we were in Camelot, Arthur and I…"

She didn't hear what came next as a ridiculous pop song cut through the quiet air. David retrieved his phone and checked the display. "Mary Margaret," he stated as he stood and moved away to have his conversation.

The pirate subtly pushed his glass towards her and she refilled it - a slightly more generous portion this time. "I must say," Killian began, "That I find myself somewhat tired of stories that begin with that particular personage." The glass was drained with stunning speed. Granny's drink sat untouched as her attention had been caught by the conversation the prince was having with his wife.

"We are at Granny's. Yeah, I think we will have to stay. The place is empty and Granny has the whiskey out. Not sure she can hold her liquor too well these days. She's definitely a bit drunk. Yeah, we will take care of her…"

She was brought back to reality by Killian's hand on her arm. She released the tight grip she had on her glass, her fingers cramped from exertion without her even realising.

"I fear the prince has forgotten your superior aural abilities if that expression is anything to go by," he said. In a voice that could only be described as a growl, Granny relayed the one sided conversation she had just overheard. Crossbows and kitchen cages flashed in her mind, but the perceptive pirate was quick to respond.

"Perhaps we can use this lingering - what's the word Emma used? - ah, bromance, I believe to have a little bit of sport at the prince's expense?" Killian took the bottle and refilled both glasses as David returned to his seat.

"Mary Margaret wondering where we were," he told them as he slipped his phone away. "I told her we were just not into karaoke tonight." He picked up his glass for another delicate sip. Granny felt herself tense at his untruth, but she became aware of the low hiss of Killian's voice, too soft for David to hear.

"Just play along, love," he hissed. He raised his glass in David's direction. "Dave, I believe you were about to entertain us with a tale of the mighty KIng of Camelot before you were interrupted?"

"Yeah, Arthur shared an amazing bottle of aged Arendellian port with me when we were in Camelot and it was so much better when we savoured it, you know."

"Indeed." Killian said knowingly, looking across at Granny. He lowered his voice as if to rely on her wolf hearing, knowing full well his mate could hear every word. "That must be what the King was talking about." Granny nodded, raising her glass to Killian's before they both tipped the amber fluid down their throats.

David was immediately on edge. "What? What did he say about me?"

Killian sighed heavily, and she fought the urge to laugh at his dramatics. The whiskey had certainly made her feel better about a dismal night in the diner and as much as she loved David, the chance to exact a bit of non-crossbow related revenge was just what she needed.

"Captain," she hissed, unwilling to miss the chance to play stage whispers. "Don't tell him about it. It will only hurt his feelings to think his new best friend thinks he's a lightweight." David's jaw dropped in hurt and outrage as Killian feigned apology.

"Sorry, mate. I truly did not want to besmirch your new friendship." As he spoke, he topped up David's glass. "Of course, the King has it all wrong. We know you can keep up with the best of them, even a seasoned drinker such as the Widow Lucas, here."

"I sure can," David insisted, picking up the glass and tossing back the drink with reckless abandon. He shuddered as he swallowed but slammed the glass down for a refill. Granny poured another round and with a clink of glasses across the table the party began.

When Mary Margaret, Emma and Ruby arrived some hours later, the scene before them left at least one in deep surprise. Mary Margaret stared as Killian and Granny swayed drunkenly by the jukebox, belting out Bon Jovi's _Wanted Dead or Alive_ with more latent natural talent than she had seen all evening at The Rabbit Hole.

Killian rushed towards Emma and enveloped her in a bear hug. She took the chance to relieve him of his flask, taking a generous swig once he had released her, then passing the leather container to Ruby who was shaking her head in amusement.

"Snow!" Granny called out. "Seems your husband got it wrong about who couldn't hold his liquor." The old woman walked unsteadily to the booth, where Prince Charming was slumped across the table, an empty glass just beyond his finger tips. Granny fisted her hand in his collar and lifted his head. His eyes opened briefly and he grinned drunkenly at his wife, his words slurred as he spoke. " 'lo honey. Can you tell Arthur I'm no' a lightweight? Take a picture…"

Granny lowered his head back to the table gently and snorted loudly as Killian joined them with his phone. He began to scroll through his camera roll, the pair of them laughing drunkenly at each new incriminating shot they showed off.

"Emma," Mary Margaret called. Emma joined her mother, her stare quieting the raucous laughter for just a moment. "Can I have Killian's flask please?" Emma handed over the bottle, squeezing her mother's shoulder in a show of support. Mary Margaret stood still for a minute, uncorked the flask and drank deeply.

Without a word, she handed the flask back to Emma, turned and walked out the door. Emma grinned and moved close to Killian, whispering in his ear.

"You bested him, pirate. Now you deal with him. See you tomorrow." Sliding the flask back in his pocket, she turned and followed her mother out into the night.


End file.
